Something Lost in the Translation
by Liliththestormgoddess
Summary: Tonight, its dinner at Hannibal’s.


Summary: Tonight, its dinner at Hannibal's.

Warnings: Mild Swearing.

A/N: I do not own The A-Team, or any of its characters. Just the ones you don't recognize. :) Also, all mistakes are soley mine.

Something Lost in the Translation

by Liliththestormgoddess

It was another one of those days.

Just another ordinary day they had decided to make special with another dinner. It was mid-January, so New Years had just passed, and they had just celebrated that together. But none of them could manage more than a few weeks without hanging out with the other, and seeing the kids. Besides, the kids enjoyed themselves too, playing with the others.

This time, it was at Hannibal's house. He and Murdock had argued a bit over the location, but in the end, Murdock let Hannibal have the dinner just the once. It was usually at the Murdock's house, which significantly had more room, but Hannibal had just fixed up the living room, putting in a real wood fireplace, and was dying to show it off.

Maggie had prepared a wonderful roast beef in the kitchen, and it took all of Hannibal's strength to stay away, instead of snagging a few pieces. The rest of the team were all bringing smaller dishes, and some desserts, but the host was responsible for the main meal.

Hannibal leaned over and poked at the fire, keeping the flames going. He looked up at the clock on the mantle, and noticed it was almost six o'clock. Everyone would be arriving soon. He stood up and made his way to the dining room. Now, where was John?

At the foot of the stairs, he called up, "John! Come help me set the table! They're going to be here soon!"

The sound of footfalls satisfied him that his son was moving around, so he went back to the dining room, and started pulling out plates and utensils.

When John appeared in the doorway, he was shaking his head of brown curls. "Dad, honestly, you're not in the army any more. What's with the scream?" He rubbed his ears, but a grin was snaking its way across his features, letting his father know that he was just kidding. He bright blue eyes, exactly like his fathers, flashed at him with a twinkle of humour.

"Very funny, son. Inspection!" He suddenly commanded, and his fifteen-year-old son snapped to attention. Hannibal inspected his freshly ironed dress shirt that held no stains, then to his nicely creased khaki dress pants. His hair was brushed and controlled, and Hannibal nodded, pleased. "At ease, and come help me set this table."

Ten minutes later, they were finished setting the table, and Maggie had finished the roast, setting on the table. Just then, the doorbell rang, and John ran to answer it.

"Hey there, John," greeted the first comer as he walked in the door, holding a dish in his hands.

"Hey, Uncle Face," greeted back John, taking the dish from him. Hannibal came to the door then, and started taking coats.

"Face," he grinned, and gave his friend a hug. He gave Face's wife, Sherri, a kiss on the cheek as well as a hug. "Nice to see you guys," he said. He looked around the front hallway. "Where's Philip?"

Face took Sherri's arm and led her further into the house. "Ah," he said, looking back towards the door. "He's grabbing the dessert, I believe."

"Yes," Sherri said, "be sure to put it in the freezer."

"Yes ma'am," replied Hannibal. Soon enough, another figure appeared on the doorstep, carrying a large cardboard box. Peering over top, Hannibal recognized it was the Peck's son, Philip.

"Here, let me take that, buddy," offered Hannibal, and took the box from the boy's hands.

"Thanks, Uncle Hannibal," he said gratefully, smiling a large white smile. He stepped inside and removed his coat, Hannibal marvelling at how he was a replica of Face, even at only thirteen. He had his father's blond hair, his blue eyes, and even his handsome face. And if that seemed already too much of his father, he also had his winning charm. Hannibal watched him move to the living room, looking for John.

After safely putting away the dessert, the doorbell rang again, and Hannibal admitted the Baracus's next. BA loomed in the doorway, holding a small child, while trying to herd another in with his other hand. His wife, outside, was also trying to get two slightly older children in the door, while juggling the container of food in her hand.

"Hey, man," grunted BA, setting the children down on the floor, who promptly began to run, chasing each other.

"BA," Hannibal grinned, giving his friend a hearty slap on the back. But he quickly hurried to the porch to grab the food from Jasmine and bring it into the house. He brought it into the kitchen, while dodging children as they ran under foot. He didn't mind it, not too much, the times that the team got together. It usually made him laugh, though, that a tough guy like BA would have so many kids. But the man liked kids, and so did his wife.

BA followed him into the kitchen as soon as he made sure his family was safe inside. He sniffed the air. "Smells good, man. Maggie make that wonderful roast beef again?" he asked.

Maggie came in from the dining room and gave BA a hug. He gave her a wink as he complimented her cooking. Then the group moved back towards the living room, to greet the rest of them.

Hannibal had wanted to wait for everyone to be there before he broke out the wine, but it was now 6:30 and the Murdock's hadn't shown up yet. He looked towards Face, who sat on the love seat beside Sherri. "Murdock say anything to you about being late?" he asked. After all, the two were best friends.

"No," Face replied, shrugging. "I don't know what's taking so long." He looked at his Rolex watch. "Shouldn't be this late," he muttered.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Hannibal sprang up to get it. He was greeted with Murdock's grinning face and loud, welcoming voice.

"Howdy Colonel!" He cried, and stepped inside the house, giving Hannibal a quick hug.

As Hannibal gave Murdock's wife, Angela, a hug and kiss, he asked them, "Something happen, Murdock?"

Angela sighed and said, "Yes" just as Murdock said "No". Hannibal tried not to laugh as he took their coats and hung them up. Something always seemed to happen in that family, and it was usually Murdock and his crazy visions, or ideas. Crazy or not, Angela had never minded, she said he was just a guy with a sense of humour, and it amused her.

Their eldest daughter, Alexia, breezed in the door just then, bringing along her younger sister, Samantha, and a small dish. Alexia, fifteen and a born drama queen, came in rolling her brown eyes, just like her father's. "Dad got lost," was her explanation after she greeted Hannibal.

"I did not get lost," corrected Murdock. "I knew where Hannibal's house was. I simply drifted off for a moment, lost in my own thoughts." He frowned. "I just had hoped my subconscious would have taken over and directed me here, but it didn't."

"Dad!" cried Alexia, exasperated, but Samantha just giggled. Angela smiled, put a gentle hand on her husbands arm, and led him into the house, to greet the others.

His kids moved in too, and Hannibal felt relaxed now that his whole team was here. He entered the living room just as the Murdock's were finishing their greetings.

When they were finished, he called out, "Alright! How about a toast?"

There were positive murmurs from everyone, so Hannibal fetched the wine and some glasses, and club soda for the kids. He poured out the wine, and once everyone had a glass to hold, he raised his own.

"For family, friends, health and happiness."

"Hear, hear," they murmured, and everyone clinked glasses, before draining them. After a few minutes of socializing, Maggie called them for dinner, and they sat around the large table, digging in to the feast.

Things were never quiet at the dinner table, but Hannibal enjoyed listening to the various conversations.

"Sherri, honey, can you pass the gravy?"

"Face, you never said how that new project was going."

"Ah, it's going splendidly. Knew it would. See, I got the director to listen to my idea and now…."

Hannibal tuned out and listened to the other section of the table.

"I'm telling you Samantha," Murdock was explaining, waving his arms in the air, "when I looked behind that bush, I saw the fairies, just sitting peacefully on the leaves! They were colourful, and had beautiful wings, and didn't even move as I watched them." Samantha stared at her father, her eyes wide with amazement. At five years, she was a big fan of fairy tales, or anything mystical, and who better to tell them than Murdock?

Of course, one person disagreed with that.

"Come off it, fool," growled BA from the other side of the table. "There ain't no things as fairies. You just seein' things."

Murdock looked offended, and Samantha momentarily horrified. "That's not true, BA," Murdock protested. "Only people who really believe in fairies see them." He turned to his daughter, and whispered to her, "He's just upset because he doesn't believe in them, and doesn't see them." He winked. "But we know better." Samantha giggled.

BA scowled at him. "You're just crazy Murdock. Don' know why no one else can see that. I'm surprised they neva put you in tha nut house."

Hannibal grinned slightly at the turn of conversation here. BA and Murdock could usually get along if a) Murdock wasn't flying and b) if he wasn't going on about something that didn't breathe, or exist. But this nut house thing was something new.

Murdock mocked offence, placing his hand over his heart. "BA! How kind of you to say that! But surely, I don't think they would have taken me."

"Sure they would, sucka. You're a real nut case. Same with back in tha war."

Everyone chuckled. They knew the two liked to tease each other, but usually meant nothing by it.

"Dad," began John, looking at Hannibal, "can you tell us another story, about you and the military?"

"Yeah," chorused the other children at the table. This was a favourite mealtime discussion. The children loved to hear about their fathers fighting in impossible situations in the war.

"Sure," grinned Hannibal. And he loved to indulge them. He was a real storyteller. He saw Face put down his knife and fork, ready to listen to the story he'd choose today, or to add his two cents; mainly to complain about Hannibal's method of attack. Murdock continued eating, but his eyes were on Hannibal, and BA was trying to shush his kids, to get them to listen to the story.

"Alright, well, as you may know, we were a combat group in the army, known as the A-Team. We were sent on special missions, and one day we were ordered to do a special search and retrieve mission. A very important group of men had been caught as they were trying to get back to base. They were with a small army, of course, but the Viet Cong army had them pinned. We had to go in, get them, and get back out, all intact." He paused for dramatic effect, letting the situation sink into the children's heads. All were focused on him.

"I devised a plan, of course. Very straightforward, but deadly if not performed right. And we performed it perfectly." He didn't have to tell the kids all the details, of course. He hadn't planned to. But as he said that last statement, the guys all protested loudly.

"Perfectly, Hannibal?" asked Face sarcastically, throwing his napkin on his plate.

"Are you kidding?" cried Murdock, throwing his hands in the air. "My bird lost all its fuel halfway to the base, and half a wing!"

"Yeah, man, and we crashed right in the middle of a jungle, and the plane went up in smoke!" fumed BA; he didn't relish this particular memory.

"And I broke three ribs in that crash! Remember, Hannibal? I was laid up in the hospital for two weeks," grumbled Face, his arms crossed.

The women shared a knowing look. They knew this fight would last all of dinner. But the children found it amusing.

"How did you get out?"

"What did you do?"

Grinning, Hannibal began to explain to them how they manage to salvage some of the airplane parts, and put back together a radio, signalling for help. Luckily, none of their special passengers had been hurt, and someone sent out an emergency helicopter that picked them up and took them all back to base. He then finished proudly by telling them that afterwards, they had been awarded medals for their excellent service.

The children's eyes went wide. "Wow!" they seemed to exclaim in unison. Immediately, questions seemed to circulate, all asking various things about these medals. What did they look like, how big, was it heavy, etcetera.

"Dad," asked Philip as he turned to Face, "can I see your medal?"

Face smiled. "Sure kid, as soon as we get home." Philip grinned, looking excited.

All the kids went back to interrogating their fathers, and eventually the conversations strayed, moving to all sorts of new topics. Hannibal revelled in the calm, relaxed atmosphere, and contentedly ate his dinner.

Suddenly, Face was by his side, tugging on his shirtsleeve. "Hannibal, Hannibal, Decker's coming." His face was a mask of worry and fear. Hannibal was confused for a moment. What exactly did that mean?

"Hannibal. Hannibal!"

Someone was shaking him. Hannibal snapped open his eyes and found Face leaning over him, looking scared and worried. "Decker's coming," he hissed. "We have to get moving."

Hannibal sat up; aware that the chair he had been sitting in had dug painfully into his back. He squinted into the darkness, realizing that he was in BA's van. Where was the dinner he had just sat down to? Next to him, in the driver's seat, BA was grumbling and starting the van, and in the back, Murdock had just woken up as Face jumped back in, sliding the door shut.

Sirens pierced the air as the van sped away, tires squealing and leaving a trail of smoke.

Hannibal sat confused, staring out the front window. The events of the day were coming back to him. They were on a job, but Decker had gotten wind of where they were, and it had been hard, trying to pin the bad guys while ducking the MPs. Tonight they had been on a stake out, watching for signs of the bad guys. It had been Face's watch. And Hannibal had been sleeping.

So it had been a dream, Hannibal concluded. All that, the whole family thing, the dinner: all a dream. But it had seemed so real! Them, their children, their wives, the feeling of being relaxed and happy, had all felt so real. He turned back to look at his men for a moment. Face was straightening his tie, looking worried, and Murdock was muttering to himself, Murdock, who had been committed to the VA, straight after they had been sent to jail. Hannibal recalled that in the dream, Murdock, like the rest of them, had been free men.

Free men. The word sounded funny. Not fugitives, not on the run from the military, working as soldiers for hire. But, there they were, sitting around, laughing and talking to their families about the old army days. About that one mission in Cambodia. Hannibal knew that was a real mission. That had actually happened, he remembered it clearly. But the medals? Hah, he wanted to laugh. They had hardly received a pat on the back for that, because crashing the plane in the middle of nowhere instead of performing a perfect mission wasn't exactly well liked.

Hannibal glared out the window. But _damn_! It had seemed so real! He couldn't get over that fact. He looked back again at Face and Murdock. Did Face even know a girl named Sherri? Possibly, but Hannibal sure as hell didn't. So where did these people come from? Could his mind really conjure up these images, of things his heart longed to have?

And what of the team? They had been the best of friends in his dream. Like they were now. But this was straight from the war. Would they still have been best friends, he wondered? Or were they only that close because they were on the run together? Or had the events of Hanoi not happened, would they have said, okay, nice fighting with you, stay in touch, but not really mean it? Perhaps run into each other in a coffee shop or something, reminisce about the old days, and be off with it?

Hannibal was jarred from his deep thoughts by the ruts in the road, and Face's swearing as his head banged against the window. The sirens were fading in the distance, but they weren't out of the clear, not yet. Hannibal trusted BA to get them out, so he settled back in the seat.

He wanted that fire, in _his_ house. He wanted that family, that friendship, that security. That humour, that ease, that feeling of safety, that no one was going to come in and arrest him. He wanted that to be his reality.

Hannibal closed his eyes and lay back in his seat.

He wanted back inside that dream.


End file.
